The Fire
by kimba821
Summary: Chapter 5 is up. No need to summarize contents, title says it all...
1. Of Flames and Friends

::cringes:: Yes, I know I shouldn't be starting some other story, no need for lecturing, but I couldn't resist. I think this one I might just actually finish...hopefully because I don't think its going to be awfully long.   
  
I sorta typed this kinda quickly so there might be some grammatical mistakes. I've been editing it, but I'll apologize beforehand. Sometimes I type too fast and carelessly when I get hit with lots of inspiration.  
  
Oh BTW, the next part of 'You Make It Feel Like Christmas' will probably be up soon. Sorry it took me a while (hopefully I'll finish it before next Christmas). I've got a list of excuses, but I don't think you'd appreciate hearing them all.   
  
So, without further ado here's the first chapter out of who knows how many....   
  
  
  
The Fire  
  
  
Disclaimer: Okay, tell me the truth. Do you really think I own HA! or that I even might just happen to work on the show? Now be honest....  
  
  
Chapter 1: Of Flames and Friends  
  
  
  
It was a crisp evening in late autumn. The leaves had already changed into vibrant colors and most had made their way from high up in the branches of trees to the hard nearly frozen ground below. The sun had almost descended completely leaving only a few shimmering rays that could be seen off to the distance. With that exception the evening was a dark coal black cake with a few sprinkles of stars. The moon was thin: only a small slimmer could be sighted.  
  
A peaceful tranquillity lingered in the chilly air. The city appeared to be content, at rest, without a care in the world. But over one particular place in the city there was a very different sort of atmosphere.  
  
"Class! Class! Please everyone simmer down!" Mr. Simmons was desperately trying to keep control over his 4th grade students. He had come up with the brilliant idea of having his class come back after school to study the stars from the school's roof. His plan had not worked to the extent he had hoped for. Despite the clear skies that been predicted, thick mists of clouds hid almost all the stars while the bright lights blaring down were not much of a help either as they blinded the few stars not hidden by clouds.  
  
So due to the unfortunate circumstances he had been forced to have his students imagine where the stars would be if given better conditions. But the class unfocused and rowdy was none too interested in hearing lectures on stars and telescopes especially when school was normally out of session.  
  
"Criminey! This is so stupid. You can't even see a single star." Helga pushed the telescope away from her.  
  
Arnold glanced up. "You know, Helga, we're supposed to be doing this project together. I'm doing all the work."  
  
The blonde girl waved a fist in front of the boy's face. "Hey, hey, hey! I've been trying to find the stars! It's not my fault that are not stars out, is it?"  
  
"Gosh fellers, I see lots of them stars. Oh and they're moving around!" Students turned to watch Stinky who was delighted that he had been able to spot the glowing rocks they had come to observe.  
  
Gerald rolled his eyes. Placing a hand in front of the telescope a few of Stinky's so called 'stars' landed on his finger. Drawing his arm close to his face for careful scrutinizing, the boy narrowed his eyes.  
  
"Uh, Stinky, these are fireflies, not stars."  
  
"Aw, gee," said the tall southern boy, disappointed with the lack of greatness in his discovery.  
  
"So that's where my fireflies went off to..." Nadine, abandoning her telescope went to recapture the lightning bugs.  
  
"What's the point of doing this? We are not going to find any stars," snapped a still frustrated Helga. A small girl next to her gave her friend a shy yet amiable smile.  
  
"It's not all that bad, Helga. I'm finding this experience to be quite interesting and informative."   
  
Helga acted as if she did not notice Phoebe share a glance with Gerald. She sneaked a quick peak at her beloved who was sitting only but a mere few feet away from her.  
  
His jellybean green eyes were studiously working on the sheet Mr. Simmons had given each group to complete before the small excursion was over. The boy paused in his work to shift his weight in one of the chairs that had been brought up to aid in observation of the various celestial bodies.  
  
Letting out a deep, frustrated sigh, the boy lifted his eyes from the paper. A strange smile formed on his lips. Perplexed, Helga spun her head around to see what had caught his attention. She immediately realized what had distracted Arnold, or more accurately who.  
  
She subconsciously scowled, fists clenching in anger, heart pulsing with envy at the sight of the person who had attracted her beloved's attention.  
  
Chestnut hair pulled back into two secure braids, a prim green dress, freckles sprinkled across her face left over from spending too much time outside, brown eyes shining with sweetness, and a pleasant smile plastered on her lips: Miss Perfect.  
  
Anger and resentment burned bright in the blonde girl's eyes of fire. Life wasn't fair. Why couldn't she have been born the object of her love's affections? When would Arnold ever look upon her with those emerald green eyes of his, lost in his love for her?  
  
"Helga? Um, Helga?"  
  
Startled out of her thoughts, she spun back around to find none other than Arnold looking slightly annoyed at her and her tendency to drift off.  
  
"Don't you ever startle me again, you yellow-haired shrimp!" snapped the girl.  
  
"I didn't mean to," the boy replied bitterly, but Helga just ignored the comment. Slumping back down in a chair she muttered under her breath.  
  
The boy studied her while she fiddled with a pencil. An eerie silence loomed between the two children while the others were buzzing around chattering like chipmunks.  
  
Finally fed up with the bad attitude and how uncooperative his partner was acting, Arnold shattered the silence between them.   
  
"Helga, are you going to help me or not?"  
  
Angry eyes fluttered up to meet his. "No." She stood up. "I'm going to see if I can grab any food from the cafeteria."  
  
"You think getting something to eat is more important than finishing this project?"  
  
"Well yeah, Footballhead, I did skip dinner." Before Arnold could open his mouth to protest she was gone.  
  
The boy let an irritated groan escape. It wasn't fair! Why did he always have to get Helga as his partner? Why couldn't he have been paired up with someone he got along with better?  
  
"Hello, Arnold." The boy looked away from the sky to meet the freckle-faced girl standing beside him. Someone like Lila.  
  
"Hi, Lila. How are you?"  
  
"Oh I'm just ever so wonderful, Arnold. Thanks for asking." The girl paused to glanced around the roof crowded with their classmates. "Um, was I mistaken or wasn't Helga with you just a few moments ago?"  
  
"Well yea...she's my partner. But she went off somewhere to get something to eat."  
  
"Oh. Would you mind if I joined you?" Lila batted her long eyelashes.  
  
"Of course I wouldn't mind," replied Arnold, pulling up a chair for her.  
  
***************************  
  
Helga could feel her stomach rumble with an intense hunger. Thankful that the lunch ladies had not locked the cafeteria, she stepped into the room and over into the kitchen. Off to the corner a wire that had been accidentally left in gave off a spark, but it was too small for Helga to take any notice of.  
  
"So this where the lunch ladies keep their stash...." She trailed off. She had found the prized dessert freezer.  
  
She opened it and began to chow down on ice cream, assorted pudding flavors, and cookies. After a few minutes of scarfing down food feeling like Harold might be rubbing off on her too much she wondered if she should head back up to the roof.  
  
She would bring Arnold some delicious desserts up and ask for his forgiveness. Feeling confident with her new plan, she stood up only to get her dress caught on the refrigerator. For a few minutes she struggled to get it loose, but was unsuccessful in her vain attempts.   
  
She thought about just ripping the dress, but then frowned at the idea of her returning to the roof to try to apologize to Arnold with a huge rip that extended all the way up her leg. Too proud to do that she continued the hopeless task of trying to get her dress uncaught.   
  
Unbeknownst to her were a few sparks that flew near the entrance of the kitchen. She did not hear the sound of the short-circuit. She was too preoccupied with prying her dress loose so she could return to Arnold's company on top of the roof under the romantic sky. She did not see the first small flame ignite....  
  
*******************************  
  
Arnold turned back to Lila. They had been having a very pleasant conversation for a while now. He enjoyed her wonderful manners and sweet presence. He felt like the luckiest boy in the world to be given a chance to talk to her under the romantic evening sky, which although lacking stars was still beautiful.  
  
For one reason or another the chill had almost vanished. Arnold wondered if it was from being with her.  
  
Lila looked up at Arnold giving him one of her ever so sweet smiles. "Arnold?"  
  
"Yes?" He edged closer towards her, feeling his heart begin to quicken its pace.  
  
"I just wanted to tell you that-"  
  
Arnold could not hear the rest because a sharp ear piercing noise struck the air. Startled and frightened the students turned to Mr. Simmons.  
  
"Oh my word that must be the fire alarm. Now I want everyone to use the fire escape along the side of the school and proceed in an orderly and safe manner...."  
  
A few students grabbed the telescopes, but most were abandoned because of the difficulty of trying to carry them down the ladder.  
  
Leaving what Lila was about to tell him forgotten, Arnold worriedly climbed down. There was a strange smell in the air. It was more distinct as he reached the pavement. It was the smell of smoke! Was there an actual fire?  
  
Mr. Simmons quickly led the students to the other side of the street. From there they could see dark smoke coming from one side of the school building.  
  
"Boy howdy, it's a real fire!" shrieked Sid. All the children gasped at the sight.  
  
"Oh, my, I must go notify the firestation." Mr. Simmons darted to the nearest pay phone. There had been so many false alarms the past year they had needed to disconnect the alarm to the firestation so there was no way of the fire department knowing of an actual fire unless someone directly contacted them.  
  
"911...please get me the fire department! It's an emergency!"  
  
"Please state the location of the fire."  
  
"PS 118, the elementary school."  
  
While Mr. Simmons was notifying the police, Arnold stood watching the school, getting a very strange feeling that something was missing. He glanced around the students gathered on the sidewalk, all the while searching for that face. He paled. He searched again. The face was not amongst any of the crowd. Voices echoed in his mind.  
  
*"I'm going to see if I can grab any food from the cafeteria."  
  
"You think getting something to eat is more important than finishing this project?"  
  
"Well yeah, Footballhead, I did skip dinner." *  
  
He had completely forgotten about her. Lila had been too much of a distraction and had kept him from noticing that Helga had not returned. Could she have just gone home? No it was not like her to leave without so much as a 'goodbye' or at least some sort of exit. She was still in the building.  
  
Arnold could sill hear Mr. Simmons talking on the phone, very panicked. If the firemen could not come in time...  
  
A horrible vision flashed through his mind and he knew immediately what he had to do. Without a second thought he began to run towards to the school, disobeying Mr. Simmons strict orders of staying on the other side of the street.  
  
"Arnold, what are you doing?" His best friend's deep voice called after him. Arnold glanced back over his shoulder.  
  
"Helga's in there!" Arnold did not wait to see Gerald's response. Without looking back he darted into the school building.  
  
"Helga's in there!" Phoebe's echoing cry was the last thing he heard. Everyone began to gasp and murmur. Then someone let out a small scream. Flames could now be seen. The fire was spreading...  
  
********************************  
  
Helga looked around her frantically. She was trapped. By the time she had smelled the smoke and the alarm had gone off the fire had blocked off the entrance she had taken.  
  
She glanced down at he dress and the long rip it now had exposing her underwear. If only she could have not acted like Rhonda and not cared whether or not her dress had a long tear even if she would have had to undergo extreme humiliation.  
  
But now there was now way out. She was going to be burned alive, or suffocate from the thick smoke, or both. There had to be way, but there were no windows in the kitchen. If she had taken her goodies to the cafeteria to eat she would not have been in this predicament.  
  
A few drops of seat rolled down her face from nervousness and the intense heat. She could feel the sweat being mingled with salty tears.  
  
A life ending at only nine years of age. She was too young to die. She had not done everything she wanted, not tasted every food, not seen the world, graduated from high school, nor told Arnold her secret.  
  
Tears flooded down her cheek now. She would never get a chance to tell Arnold how she felt, of course he would probably discover the truth after she went to the pearly gates in the sky, but by then it would be too late. They would never be together....  
  
"Helga? Helga, where are you?" The voice was faint, but the girl recognized the speaker instantly.  
  
"Arnold?!"  
  
"Helga, where are you?!" he repeated.  
  
"I'm in the kitchen, Arnold, I'm trapped, trapped like a rat!" she screamed.   
  
"I'm coming," called the boy.  
  
"But there's no way you can get in!" shrieked the girl. "Is there?" For a few minutes she did not hear his voice again. The fire, which had been spreading out the doorway into the cafeteria was now beginning to creep its way closer to her. She trembled. The end was coming.  
  
"Helga!" The girl looked up to see Arnold standing on a thin ledge only a few feet wide that extended around the kitchen. The kitchen room had no actual floor dividing the 1st from the 2nd: it was just a tall room.  
  
"How did you get up there?"  
  
"Never mind that." The boy studied the girl below him and the roaring flames that were edging their way towards her. "Okay, Helga, I've got an idea."  
  
"Arnold, in case I don't make it, there's something very important I want to tell you."  
  
"Don't think like that," said the blonde boy as he took off his sweater and then the red plaid shirt leaving him with just a white t-shirt to cover his upper body. Ripping both of the shirts he had discarded in half, he tied the sleeves together forming a make shift rope. Tying it to one of the pipes that extended from the walls of the ceiling, he threw it down to Helga. It just reached her.  
  
"Grab on! I'll pull you up!" She glanced at the flames only a few feet away from her. She took one hand and grasped the cloth rope and had the other grasp it farther up.  
  
Arnold took the top part of the clothing and pulled, trying to drag the girl up to him, to the safety of the ledge. Straining his muscles he yanked with all his might while Helga tired to raise herself at the same time by moving her hands cautiously up the 'rope.'  
  
She could hear the seams of the clothing begin to rip and she tightened her grip.  
  
"Only a little farther, Helga. You're almost there." The blonde girl glanced back down. Flames blazed wild and fierce like an untamed lion where she been standing just a few moments ago.  
  
"It's going to snap," she shrieked tearing her eyes away from the flames to the boy above her still hauling on the rope.  
  
"No, its not," said the boy firmly.  
  
Tears trickled down Helga's cheeks and disappeared into the fire. "Arnold, if the rope breaks and I fall, please just get out of here and save yourself. Promise me you'll do that."  
  
"The rope is not going to break!" Helga had never seen him so stubborn. She cringed as she listened to hear a few other seams snap. The cloth rope could not take the strain of her weight, not even with Arnold helping it along.  
  
"Just a little farther...." The boy gritted his teeth, drops of seat rolling down his face, which was reddened from the extreme heat. Inching closer up to the ledge Helga could now see how Arnold had reached it. There was a small passageway to it from the second floor.  
  
For a split second Helga thought she was going to reach the ledge. Arnold stretched one of his hands towards her while the other sill grasped the make shift rope. Taking one of her sweaty palms from the cloth rope as well she reached out to Arnold's extended hand.  
  
Their fingertips brushed. Arnold leaned down a little closer to her...SNAP!  
  
Helga let out a high scream as she heard the last of the seams break. She closed her eyes, ready for the flames below her to swallow her whole as she felt herself begin to plummet down.  
  
********************************************  
  
Aw gee! My pen just ran out of ink. Oh well. I guess I might as well stop it here. I was going to end the first chapter here anyway...  
  
Shall I continue? The next part or two is already written, that is if you want to read them, so tell me what you thought....  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. As the Smoke Rises

  
Now what comes before two? One (correct me if I'm wrong.) Make sure you read the first chapter before you bother reading this one don't know why you would bother reading the second before the first, but...  
  
Okay most of my comments are after this chapter since I think I will be more likely to have everyone's attention then. Sorry for the delay. Oh and if you're reading this the beginning jumps around a lot. I thought if it was made into an actual show it would jump around even more... BTW- Thanks for all those great reviews they really helped me in writing the next part.  
  
Disclaimer: Now tell me the truth: What would you do if I did say I owned HA!? Would you really get lawyers and attorneys to file a bunch of lawsuits against me and sue me for all I'm worth? Would you? Oh and just for the record I do not own HA!. (Heh, like anyone is going to say they do...exceptions go to a certain man with the initials CB)  
  
Now without any further delay, here it is... the second chapter of 'The Fire'  
  
Chapter 2: As the Smoke Rises  
  
  
Gerald watched his friend's body disappear into the burning building. What was Arnold doing? How crazy was he to put his life at risk for Helga Pataki?  
  
The other kids were staring, stunned by the circumstances as reality began to sink in of what was really going on. Unsure of what to say, or even what to think the group was silent except for a few murmurs, forgetting about their teacher until he returned to them.   
  
Mr. Simmons, after finishing the phone call, turned back to his students to do a head count. "We're two short," cried the teacher, looking up and down the street for any faces that might have wondered off. The students immediately realized that their teacher had not been informed of neither Helga's nor Arnold's absence.  
  
"Helga's inside the school!" stated Stinky, motioning towards the burning structure.  
  
"And Arnold went after her!" cried Sid, trying to explain what was going on, while he attempted to keep his cool, although he was very unsuccessful for his voice was high resembling that of a little girl's.   
  
"Oh my word!" Mr. Simmons let out a gasp. He gripped Stinky's shoulder to try to steady his body. He could not let himself faint.  
  
The children heard a loud crash from the building. A column of wood lit up bright with flames had come crashing down and now laid diagonally, blocking the main entrance to the school.  
  
Mr. Simmons looked on. He had never felt more helpless in a situation before, but he knew he could not leave the rest of his students unattended. "Please let them be okay," begged the teacher under his breath.   
"Please..."  
  
Phoebe stood trembling violently. The flames reflected in the lens of her glasses. Without warning a familiar voice rang through her mind. The voice she had heard so often speaking to her, barking out orders, snapping at people, or even swooning over Arnold. At that moment she was willing to do anything to hear that voice again.   
  
*"Whatever happened to the old Phoebe who used to be my best friend?"*  
  
*"You're not dumb, Phoebe. Anyone could be fooled by a pretty face, even someone as smart as you."*  
  
*"I'm sorry. I took your glory moment away. I made you take that fall, you should have won that contest hands down..."*  
  
*"How could I think that I could ever replace dear, sweet Phoebe? She's irreplaceable..."*  
  
She tore her eyes away from the fire, preferring to watch the hard concrete instead. "Helga, don't leave me," she whispered. The Asian girl felt a warm hand on her shoulder. She lifted her small, shy eyes away from the pavement to meet dark, brown ones.  
  
Gerald gave her a weak smile. "I hope they're alright."  
  
"Me too, Gerald. Me too."  
  
About a block away, Principal Wartz parked his car. He could see it. His beautiful school, his beloved PS 118 lit up in phosphorescent flames. He took his eyes away from the structure and forced himself to focus on the task at hand.  
  
He took out his cell phone and began dialing the two numbers that had been scribbled down on a scrap piece of paper. At the same time he moved as fast as his short, chubby legs could take him towards the students, the teacher, and the growing number of spectators watching the school being demolished by the flames.   
  
The fire department was on its way, the sirens could be heard in the distance. There had been a delay at the station: one of the engines had broken down.  
  
The principal gulped as he pressed the send button on the cell phone. He knew this was the most difficult thing he would ever have to do. He took a deep breath while the phone rung once and then twice. He heard a clicking sound as someone picked up on the other line.  
  
"Big Bob Pataki, the beeper king speaking."  
  
"Mr. Pataki, this is Principal Wartz. I have to inform you that your daughter..."  
  
**************************  
  
A few blocks away inside a red boardinghouse the boarders were starting to get a little worried.  
  
"Where's Kimba?" asked Gertie. "We need him to go round up the cattle!" She leaped up on the kitchen table lasso in hand, swinging wildly while her other hand gripped a cowboy hat to keep it from toppling off her head.  
  
"I'm not sure, Pookie. He should have been home from star gazing a while ago," said the elderly man, fiddling with the straps of his suspenders, attempting to hide the small uneasiness that lurked in his voice.  
  
"Star gazing? In this weather? You can't see a singe star with all the clouds!" said Mr. Hyunh with his thick Vietnamese accent. He shook his head, gazing out the window at the still star-less sky.  
  
"Eheheheh then can I have his dessert?" asked Oskar eyeing the last piece of pie.  
  
"No, you thieving weasel!" snapped Phil, snatching the plate with the appetizing slice of apple pie away from the clutches of Oskar.  
  
The boarders were interrupted by sound of the phone ringing. Phil reached over to answer the call.  
  
"Sunset boarding house." He paused to listen. "Yes, this is Arnold's Grandpa." The boarders could hear a faint voice talking very quickly. "Is he okay?" The elderly man grew angry. "What do you mean you don't know? We'll be right there!"  
  
The phone was slammed down. Grabbing his coat while he rushed out the door, Phil spoke. No one had ever head more worry and fear in his voice, which was usually full of humor and sarcasm. "There's a fire...shortman's in trouble..." The rest of the boarders followed the man out the door, that is all except for one.  
  
"Does that mean I can have his dessert?" asked Oskar, still watching that last piece of pie that was supposed to be for the small boy, but there was no one left to answer the Czechoslovakian man's inquiry.  
  
He picked up a fork and was about to take a bite when he heard the sound of sirens. He glanced at the pie one final time before dropping the fork with a clatter onto the plate and rushing out the door, chasing after the other boarders.  
  
"Hey, wait for me!"  
  
**************************  
  
The woman sighed as she got into her small car. It had been a long day at the office and she was exhausted. She turned the key and began to drive, taking a few sips of coffee along the way.  
  
The radio buzzed with jazz music until an announcement came from Nocturnal Ned. "Hey, all you cat and chicks out there. I'm interrupting your regular programming to inform you of a fire that has broken out in an elementary school, PS 118. Two students are reported to be trapped inside and-"  
  
The woman dropped her coffee mug, letting it shatter into pieces on the car's carpeted floor. She did not care. Pressing hard on the acceleration she ran the light, then made a sharp left hand turn, cutting off cars, leaving angry, honking drivers in her wake.   
  
**********************************  
  
A man sat in a cushioned green chair, munching on some dinner a servant had brought to him while he watched television.  
  
Fed up with the mushy soap opera, he began surfing the channels. He paused in his quest for entertainment for a brief moment when his eyes caught the screen of a live report of the latest news in the city.  
  
"The cause of the fire is still unknown. But it was reported to have broken out late this evening at PS 118, an elementary school."  
  
"Hmmm, PS 118...why does that name ring a bell?" pondered the man. He scratched his black toupee. Then realization hit him, forcing him to spit out his shrimp cocktail. "PS 118?!"  
  
"Yes, PS 118. Two 4th grade students are alleged to be inside this building. But firefighters have been unable to reach them due to the high winds and the recent dry weather, which has caused the flames to spread dangerously and uncontrollably. Sources say that the names of the two students are Helga G. Pataki and Arnold...um... and Arnold. With the intoxicating smoke and the dangerous fire, there is hardly any hope that these two 9 year olds might still be alive. This is a sad and unfortunate tragedy..."  
  
The chair in front of the television set had long since been abandoned. The TV was left on still informing of the situation, although no one in the mansion remained to listen.  
  
*************************  
  
A tall, sturdy boy walked out the front door, pausing when he reached the sidewalk. He noticed hordes of people darting down the street. He looked in that direction, trying to discover what could be drawing so many people. He saw the source.  
  
A thick, dark cloud of smoke was rising up into the air only a few blocks away. Sirens and flashing lights disturbed the dark peacefulness of the evening.   
  
"Hey Wolfgang!" The boy turned his attention away from watching the ascent of smoke to see a freckled, blonde boy.  
  
"What, Edmund?"  
  
"Did you hear? The school's on fire!" exclaimed his purple-gum-chewing friend. Wolfgang's eyes brightened at the news  
  
"Oh man, this is so sweet! I had this major math test tomorrow."  
  
"But..." Edmund looked at the ground, growing uncomfortable.  
  
"But what? What would be wrong with the school being burned to the ground? It's every kid's dream!" Wolfgang rubbed his hands together with delight at this new knowledge.  
  
"There are two people inside," answered Edmund solemnly. "Two 4th graders. One's that kid with the weird shaped head and the other is that loud mouth blonde girl with the pigtails."  
  
"Football face and that unibrow girl are inside?" Wolfgang did not wait for a response. Impassively, he started sprinting towards the school with Edmund following close behind.  
  
A large crowd had gathered around the ignited school. Families rushed over to their children: relieved that their babies were safe and sound, out of harm's way. Closer to the structure still ablaze stood two families. The fire Marshall, the principal, and Mr. Simmons stood along side them, trying to provide any sort of support.  
  
"The girl's in there with that orphan boy?" cried Bob, when he recognized the couple standing fearfully beside him. "It's all his fault she's in there!"  
  
Phil glared at the man. "It's not my grandson's fault, Pataki, you big-"  
  
"If it wasn't for your grandson she'd be here at our side..." The two men were at each other's throats, ready to start ruthlessly wrestling on the ground.  
  
The sound of glass shattering hindered them in doing so. Roaring flames came out of the window that had just broken. Bob slipped his arm around Miriam as did Phil with Gertie. Neither couple spoke because neither wanted to say the inevitable.  
  
A dark limousine screeched to a halt. A man got out, rushing towards the elderly couple watching the flames with eyes full of fear. They spotted him.  
  
"Dino? Dino Spumoni?"  
  
"I came as soon as I heard," said the once famous singer, straightening his tie. "Do we know...?"  
  
Phil shook his head sadly. "No one can reach them. The fire is blocking all the entrances." He paused to give Gertie's hand a reassuring squeeze as yet another window shattered from a column lit up with flames collapsing. "It's not looking good for Shortman."  
  
Dino watched the structure. The beams were collapsing despite the numerous firemen trying to extinguish the flames. Hoses sprayed out at full force striving to keep the fire from spreading, to keep the school standing, but all attempts were being made in vain.   
  
Nothing could stop it, the fire had become too great, too uncontrollable, leaving everyone knowledgeable of the insurmountable outcome: the building was going to collapse with the two children inside it be they dead or alive.  
  
Another car pulled to an impetuous halt. A brown haired woman got out, rushing to where Mr. Simmons stood. Before she called out to him she glanced up to see the roaring flames swallowing the school up whole. Putting her hand up to seal her mouth that had dropped, she halted. It was worse than she had imagined.  
  
Pieces of glass laid scattered on the pavement, sparks and ashes were flying everywhere while dark smoke rose, mixing with the evening's previously chilled air.  
  
"Mr. Simmons, what happened?" she spoke finally. The teacher looked over his shoulder. His usually bright and overly cheerful eyes were brimming with tears.  
  
"Oh, Dr. Bliss, it's so special of you to come." He paused to take a deep breath, trying to calm his riveted nerves. "I don't know what happened exactly..." A few tears began to fall. "Helga was inside...Arnold   
went after here...It's all my fault...I should have noticed Helga's absence sooner!" cried the teacher, choking back sobs.  
  
The physciatrist placed a comforting hand on Mr. Simmons's shoulder. "It's no one's fault..." The woman looked past the still sobbing teacher only to see a couple. She had never seen them before, but she recognized them instantly from the descriptions Helga had given.  
  
The proud, intimidating man looked straight into the flames. Dr. Bliss could see his eyes sparkling with a tear or two that he refused to let fall. Along side him was a blonde woman with one hand still covering her mouth from fear and shock. Her eyes were magnified, and she showed her emotions more openly than her husband as she let tears fall freely.  
  
An impulsive cry from a man distracted everyone's attention from the burning school. "It's gone!" cried the fire marshal. He spun around, his misty, brown eyes darting everywhere while he began to push people away. "Everyone move back!" he called to spectators, families, and firemen alike.  
  
"Please for your own safety everyone must get away!" Somehow his voice was able to carry over the sirens. Volunteers from the fire department pushed the crowd away, forming barriers with yellow tape.  
  
"It's going to collapse any moment now..."   
  
Phoebe buried her face onto Gerald's shoulder, refusing to watch the scene any more. All the kids stood silently: friends, enemies and children who hardly even knew the two ill-fated nine year olds, wondered what was going on behind those brick walls.  
  
  
***********************************  
  
*Their fingertips brushed. Arnold leaned down a little closer to her...SNAP!*  
  
*Helga let out a high scream as she heard the last of the seams break. She closed her eyes, ready for the flames below her to swallow her whole as she felt herself begin to plummet down.*  
  
Instead she felt two hands grab her own. Slowly she lifted her head and opened her eyes to find Arnold on his knees still holding onto her, refusing to let go.  
  
He bit his lip causing a few drops of blood to trickle down. Using everyone ounce of strength he had, he tried to pull the girl up.  
  
"Try to swing your leg up on the ledge. I don't know how much longer I can hold you." His voice was strained, and Helga knew how much he was struggling just to keep her from falling.  
  
Swinging her left leg continuously she was able to grip the edge of the ledge with her foot. With Arnold's help, she pulled her body up on to the safety of the ledge.  
  
The two collapsed, trying to catch their breath, but as they inhaled deeply they could feel the thick smoke filling up their lungs. As Arnold gasped for air, he looked at the girl before him. She had a hand placed over her chest as if to keep it from exploding. She was still trembling from the near death encounter. Her blue eyes gleamed with not a trace of anger, but fear.   
  
She looked up at him. He had never seen her like this. Her pink dress was torn and filthy. A part of her lower left leg already had a burn from the flames. She looked like anything, but the toughest girl in school.   
  
"Thanks, Arnold, for coming back." The boy gave her a weak smile. Suddenly the sound of wood cracking and metal breaking ruined the moment.   
  
"We have to get out of here!" cried the blonde boy, snatching Helga's hand as he began to drag her off the ledge to the second floor of the building. Helga stared after him, lovingly. He was so brave even during the most terrifying of times.   
  
The hallways of the 2nd floor luckily had not been fully lit with flames yet. Arnold led the blonde girl down the hall, searching for a stairway that could lead them to the 1st floor, or even a window that could provide any type of escape route. Their feet pounding on the tiled floor was drowned out by the crackling and the near deafening roar of the flames.   
  
Arnold turned a corner and immediately slid to a halt. Helga surprised that he had stopped so suddenly, did not look up to see his reason for not continuing. She was awfully lucky that a hand caught her wrist before it was too late.  
  
She tried to regain her balance from the abrupt halt by flapping her arms in front of her wildly to keep herself from tumbling forward into what lay before her. She raised her blue eyes slowly, and could not help, but let out another high-pitched scream.  
  
The fire had to be only a few inches away from her face. It had been spreading up from its origin on the first floor and a huge hole at least 10 feet wide had been made on the ceiling of the 1st level and the floor of the 2nd. Beyond the gaping hole a window gleamed with the flashing red lights of the fire engines reflecting on its panes. It was so close yet so far away.  
  
The two children immediately jumped back from the flames. Helga could feel a strange, painful tingling on her face and she knew the heat of the flames would leave a scar.  
  
"There has to be another exit!" cried Arnold, turning around in pursuit of trying to discover any other means of escaping death. Helga had to roll her eyes as she continued to follow Arnold. Even when he was face to face with death he was still Mr. Optimistic.  
  
Sprinting down what was left of the hallways, they could not find any sort of other escape route to take. The fire had spread into all the stairwells while the few windows in the halls were either blocked, or out of reach.  
  
"We're all going to die!" shrieked the girl, collapsing down on the tiled floor, letting fresh tears spring to her eyes. They streamed down her face, but they hardly even cooled her red face still covered with sweat and now full of burns.  
  
"Helga, we can't give up," began Arnold, attempting to console the girl before her hysterics became too uncontrollable, but he was unsuccessful.  
  
"This is all my fault," sobbed the girl, placing her face into her hands as if endeavoring to hide her agony. "If only I hadn't been so starving, so mean, or so proud, neither of us would be here." The girl abruptly ceased in her mourning to raise her eyes to meet her companion's. Her eyes shone: now full of fire and an indescribable viciousness while she glared at him.  
  
Her mood suddenly changed. She wished she could have died back in the kitchen. She would have gladly let the flames burn through her skin, tortuously killing her. "Why did you have to be such a goody-goody and come back for me? You know shouldn't have." Helga stood up to grab the top of his white shirt and yank his body closer to her.   
  
"Now we're both going to those pearly gates in the sky and I'm going to be guilty of bringing about the death of an innocent boy who had no reason to die, who should be standing outside in the cold air huddled with his friends, watching the school being burned to ashes." She stepped closer to him so their noses were barely inches apart. "Why couldn't you for once in your life stop caring so much for everyone else and think about yourself for your own idiotic sake?"  
  
*************************************  
  
~Gah, I can't get the italics to work in the txt format. Just pretend where the little stars are that there are italics.  
  
~I don't know the exact words for those quotes, but I do know that Helga says some lines similar to that in various eps.  
  
~I was going to write more, but it was getting awfully long and I didn't want to cause anymore of a delay. The reason if you don't already know why it took me so long to post this is that I changed the story around from what I originally written a lot. You'll understand at the end. I apologize for how long this took. Yes I know I hate it when people write these types of fics when you have to know what happens next and they abandon them. I won't do that unless for some reason you want me too...  
  
~Shall I continue? The next part is in the *writing process*, which means it could be posted tomorrow, the day after, or in a week. It depends on well...its demand, school, and junk.  
  
Okay now this is completely random, but I was just curious. A while back (but not that long ago) I read this HA! fic here about Helga returning after spending four years in the white house cuz Olga was president. (My memory recalls it being titled 'Running Home') I've been looking to try and find it again.   
But I can't seem to see it anywhere. Does anyone know the title or the author? (Or if you're the author can you tell me where it's located?) I know this is really out of the blue, but I wanted to read it again and show it someone, but I can't seem to find it anywhere. It's a really awesome fic...  
  
There I'm done with my little spiel. Sorry about that. So like the story? Hate it? A little too violent? Too serious? (er, there's not much I can do about that, the whole plot is kinda serious). Constructive criticism appreciated. Thanks Offcentre (that's your name right?) your comments were very helpful in writing this.   
  
Now, that was long...oh well. Now I'm officially done with my little spiel.  



	3. Lurking in the Darkness

  
Sorry about not doing the chapter thing. I really shouldn't be online right now. I have a gov't test, but I wanted to post it. I promise that when I post the next chapter it'll be in that format. I know it probably doesn't take too long to learn, but eh...I'll figure out later...  
  
This chapter is kinda short...well it's just shorter then the others I have written. I was just able to reach a good stopping point fairly quickly and I did not want to go into too much description, or jump back. This chapter is full of symbolism...we're studying it...I decided to incorporate it yadda yadda. So it might seem a little dull if you don't like that deep stuff.  
  
You thought that was an evil cliffhanger?! You should have seen the won I was going to use, heh it was even worse. The next chapter has a very bad cliffhanger (not this one but chapter 4) I'll give you that warning.  
  
Thanks so much for the reviews! You guys are the greatest...  
  
Sick of me rambling? Without further ado here is the 3rd chapter of 'The Fire'   
  
Disclaimer: I don't own HA! (Gah, these are so stupid and pointless...)  
  
Chapter 3: Lurking in the Darkness   
  
  
Arnold gave the girl a quizzical look as she stood there, still holding his shirt firmly. Her blue eyes glared down at him fiercely almost like the fire itself. Just a minute ago she had been thanking him for saving her life and now she wish he hadn't? It didn't make any sense. Unless...  
  
*"Now we're both going to those pearly gates in the sky and I'm going to be guilty of bringing about the death of an innocent boy who had no reason to die, who should be standing outside in the cold air huddled with his friends, watching the school being burned to ashes. Why couldn't you for once in your life stop caring so much for everyone else and think about yourself for your own idiotic sake?"*  
  
Helga felt her heart rate begin to increase. Oh curse her big mouth! Now her beloved was staring at her with the strangest look in those jellybean green eyes of his. He couldn't know, could he? He couldn't have figured it out...right?  
  
"Helga..." he began softly, trying to phrase his words so they would make sense. "You wish I didn't come back for you because you don't want me to die?" His voice was hushed and calm almost as if he had forgotten about the circumstances around him, and how close death was, that both could almost feel the Grim Reaper's cold breath on their neck, and see his black hood blowing in the breeze.  
  
The girl opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She dropped the boy easily, turning away so he could not see her face. She felt faint. The world seemed to spin around her: lost images of flames, smoke, and of Arnold reaching his hands down to keep her from falling floated in her mind.   
  
She wondered if the smoke had filled up her lungs already, or if because Arnold might know her deepest, darkest secret that she felt her eyes flutter. She wished so much for unconsciousness to take her out of this nightmare. Helga reached out to grab something to keep herself from falling as she felt her legs gave way, but nothing was there.  
  
Green eyes studied the girl, watching the back of her pink dress, scrutinizing her every move. Her words continued to echo in his mind. Did she really care that much about him that she would have preferred him to not come back at all so he would live?   
  
A hesitant smile formed on his lips. Helga had a good side no matter how much she consistently denied it; there was not a single doubt that lingered in that football-head of his.  
  
Arnold was trying to decide what he should do next when he noticed something peculiar. Helga was swaying back and forth, her arms flapping almost as if she was reaching out to grab a lifesaving rope to pull her to safety. Had she lost it? Arnold watched as the girl began to fall and he reacted instantly. Stretching his arms out and dashing towards her, he caught her before she hit the tiled floor.  
  
Her eyes were closed and her skin despite the burns on them and the redness from the scorching heat appeared lucid. Her body was limp, like life had been sucked out of it.  
  
"Helga?" The boy trembled, his whole body beginning to shake with an increasing intensity. He pushed away a few wisps of blonde hair that were sticking to his sweaty face.   
  
In the distance he could hear the sounds of the fire, the flames crackling, the beams collapsing, the glass shattering, and further away he could make out the soft call of the sirens. But above all what he heard that deafened his ears was the silence that came from the girl. Her lips tightly shut and her skin a ghostly pale.  
  
"Helga, wake-up! Please, Helga, you have to wake-up!" the nine-year old began to cry out, making vain attempts of waking his companion. He shook the girl, but to no avail, she refused to open her fiery blue eyes to greet his.   
  
For the first time in his entire life, he did not know what to do, what to say, or even what to think. His mind drew a blank. He wondered how he could have spent so much of his life helping others out, giving advice, supporting them through dark times and not know what to do in this crisis. He had no advice to give to himself, and there was no one there to console him.  
  
He continued to shake her, pressing his hands against her shoulders, wishing that she would just open her eyes, wishing that everything would just be alright, just like it was less than an hour ago. He placed her cold body gently down on the tiled floor of the hallways.   
  
Slowly he reached out to let his hand touch her cheek, tracing the scars and the burns that were consequent of the fire. He shuddered at the iciness from the touch of her skin. Silently to himself he made a vow.  
  
*'It's either the both of us get out together, or neither of us do.'*   
  
*********************************  
  
"What's going on in there?" a deep voice thought out loud.  
  
"I wish I could tell you, son," replied an even deeper voice. Gerald's parents stood behind him. His mother was caressing his shoulders lovingly, thankful that her baby was safe. The boy, who had always boosted about his reputation of being one of the coolest kids in PS 118, no longer cared what people thought of him for at least the time being. Letting his parents show their affection for him openly in public, he did not mind who saw him, or what they might say.  
  
Gerald turned to the scene before him. Those brick walls that were collapsing seemed to be a barrier, an impenetrable force field he could not cross. A tear trickled down his cheek. He should have stopped Arnold from going in, if only Mr. Simmons had been notified of either child's absence sooner then maybe...  
  
He could feel his mother wrap her arms around him in a crushing embrace. The tears continued to spill down his cheek. Maybe if something had been done they would be out here right now, arguing as they always did, Helga with her loud mouth: full of insults and Arnold with his sincerity and honesty.   
  
He was going to loose the best friend he ever had. A friend like Arnold did not come around that often, he was a once in a lifetime type of amigo. They still hadn't done everything they planned to do together. They were supposed to go fishing this week-end, and they had decided to spend summer vacation together, hanging out at the pool, playing baseball.   
  
And what about the years to come...when they got their driver's license, their first french kiss, their prom, their graduation? The two of them had plans...why did some stupid fire have to ignite and burn their future together like it was worth no more than a single piece of scrap paper?  
  
Gerald gritted his teeth. This was all Helga's fault. If she had not gone inside the building in the first place then none of this would be happening. Then the dark boy felt a slight twinge at his heart. He knew he should not be blaming Helga for this and even if she was the cause. She was paying for her mistake dearly with her precious life and Arnold's as well. Letting a strong compassion win him over, he regretted every rude remark he ever made to the pig-tailed girl.  
  
He closed his dark, brown eyes. Wanting more than anything else to hear those two voices again, even Helga's. He wondered if he would ever hear her call him 'Tall-hair-boy' again. The fire seemed to answer his inquiry in a unanimous cry of 'no!'.  
  
The 9-year-old boy shivered. The wind had suddenly picked up and blew strongly, if there were trees in the city they would be tossing wildly in the air. The people along the street huddled together for warmth and comfort. Gerald gazed out into the street; his dark eyes scanning for his classmates whom he had lost   
in the pandemonium when they were forced to move back from the building.  
  
He recognized Phoebe's small and delicate body. Her red-headed mother was clutching her tightly, running fingers through her daughter's black hair. Phoebe was in near hysterics. Her voice choked with sobs.  
  
Not bearing to watch the poor girl suffer any longer, Gerald turned away to see Stinky, Sid, and Harold. They were standing side by side. Gerald could hear their voices over the sirens, shouts, and flames as the wind carried the sound to his ears.  
  
"I'm confused," began Stinky, scratching his head. "Why did Arnold go after Helga? She doesn't even like him."  
  
"I don't know," replied Harold, reaching down to take a bite of the donuts he had brought for the excursion to the roof for stargazing. Feeling guilty over his friend's predicament, he thought better of it and forced himself not to eat any more of the sugary sweets. "You know Helga's not all that bad when she's not screaming at you."  
  
Sid gave him a quizzical look, his eyes narrowing at his large friend. "And how would you know?" he asked, his voice high and curious as if he was accusing Harold of committing some horrendous crime.  
  
"Well me and Helga missed the bus on that field trip to the chocolate factory. She loves wrestling, but you know that already. Anyone who likes Wrestlemania is okay even if she can act like a Madame Fortress Mommy sometimes," Harold rejoined with a shrug. He was somewhat surprised at himself. He was sticking up for Helga? They could hardly stand each other.  
  
"Are you saying that you like-like Helga?" The hot-dog-nosed boy's voice taunted Harold. Even in times of grave seriousness Sid could find a way to make fun of someone. "Cause if you do, boy howdy..."  
  
"I do not!" snapped Harold immediately. Then he glanced back at the burning building where the two classmates were trapped inside. He reconsidered. "I mean...I don't know...I don't want her to die..." He was bewildered by both his actions and his words. "Gah, Sid, you're confusing me! You'd better shut-up, or I'll pound you!" The large boy shook his fists while the small child gulped nervously.  
  
Suddenly, a crashing sound split the frigid air; a piece of ignited wood was sent into the velvety sky. People scattered as the piece came fulminating down on the concrete, awfully close to where the string-haired boy stood. He shrieked like a little girl while Harold ran off crying for his Mommy.  
  
Sid recovered enough to stare down at the piece of wood only a few feet from him as the flames on it slowly began to die. The mix of yellow, orange, red, and a glint of blue reflected in his wide eyes still full of consternation. He glanced back at the school.   
  
That school...that structure...he had grown up in it with the kids that he had become so close to. An uncontrollable impulse came over him as he broke down sobbing, letting his entire fragile body shake. He cried for how he was going to loss that cherished school, the end of a carefree childhood, and above all the almost certain fall of two unfortunate children.   
  
Gerald shook his head with a sigh. Everyone was breaking down, giving themselves up to grief and tears, something they hardly ever did. His legs were beginning to hurt and he wondered if he should sit down on the pavement. Thinking better of it, he opted to stand.  
  
He glanced up at the sky. It was dark and still covered with clouds. He narrowed his eyes. Dumb old, Mr. Simmons. If he had not dragged the class back to school to study the stars when there were none, everything would be alright.  
  
The boy let out a deep sigh, letting his lungs fill with the evening air, although containing some smoke, was still fairly fresh. He knew he could 'what if' all he wanted and still not change anything. It was the past now, but he could not help, but feel a strong sensation of regret. Perhaps if someone had done something differently.... The boy shook his head firmly. *'What's done is done...' * He thought to himself, repeating the phrase over and over again in his mind. *'What's done is done, what's done is done...'*  
  
The boy found his eyes staring up at the heavens above him. He could be not help but ponder whether or not Arnold was there already. Then in the corner of one of his eyes he saw something sparkle. Blinking in disbelief, he continued to stare up at the sky.   
  
Behind the misty clouds that had been lurking the entire evening, a small glittering object could be depicted. It was difficult to see: one had to squint his or her eyes to make out the coruscating light that had been so carefully hidden by clouds. Gerald's dark eyes widened as he could see the star shining brighter with every second that passed.  
  
************************************  
  
C'est la Fin!  
  
Okay now here are some random notes:  
  
~Offcentre- hmm...sure I'd like a beta reader (BTW- what exactly is it?) Oh and thanks...heh I did not catch that grammar error, it was supposed to be a ';'  
  
~The next part is in the writing process could be up as soon as tomorrow or as late as two or three weeks from now. As always it depends on its demand, school, and junk...  
  
~Do you like it? Do you hate it? Too boring? I wanted to add some kind of symbol in the story...the next chapter if everyone wants one will probably have less symbolism and focus on the plot more.   
  
I'll post the next part as long as people still enjoy reading it (regardless of people's opinions I'll probably still finish the story, though I probably won't bother posting it if no one wants me to continue).   
  
So it's up to you guys and gals for whether or not you want me to continue posting the next parts... Constructive Criticism as long as it's helpful is accepted gratefully.   
  



	4. The Fury of Fire

Yee-hah! I finally figured out this chapter thing. Hopefully it will work.....  
  
Okay, I've read a few reviews that complain about my cliffhangers. I'll admit that I put an extremely bad one on the 1st chapter because I think they spark interest in stories. (What can I say? I love making things overly dramatic).   
  
For the other two chapters I do not think of them as cliffhangers, just good stopping points because my inspiration had vanished, (okay I guess the 2nd one was a bit of one...). The problem with this story is that almost any stopping point could be considered a cliffhanger because you still don't know what's going to happen to Arnold and Helga. I try to write the next chapters as fast as I can, but if I rush through them the quality diminishes. I understand if that frustrates you, but I think it's better to post this kind of story as I go along until waiting and posting it all at the end (eh, it's a little late ofr that).   
  
Don't blame me, it's the plot's fault (tell me how can I possibly write this story without cliffhangers?) But then I guess I did make up the plot...er, so maybe it's my fault. But if you're getting really annoyed with them, I'll tell you that this story is coming to a closure fairly soon...   
  
Thanks for all the reviews!  
  
Without further ado, the 4th chapter...  
  
Disclaimer: Me not own Hey Arnold!   
  
Chapter 4: The Fury of Fire  
  
  
  
  
Down a hallway, practically the only part of the elementary school remaining that was not completely incandescent with flames, hid the two children. The roar of the fire was inching closer to them; the smoke was becoming thicker and its deathly wrath continuing to seep into their lungs.  
  
The blonde boy had to shudder at those thoughts. Then he looked down at the person he held in his arms, clutching tightly like she was a precious teddy bear. Her own blonde hair matted with tangles seemed beautiful at the moment and her pale skin almost heavenly.  
  
He sighed. Maybe it was hopeless, maybe there was no way out. Trying to erase discouraging thoughts, he attempted to brainstorm other escape routes. All the stairwells were blocked so they unfortunately had to stay on the 2nd floor of the structure. The windows seemed to be completely out of reach. Well there was one that they could possibly get to...   
  
He shook his football shaped head at his foolishness. To reach the window one would have to swing over the hole that was becoming wider every minute like Tarzan and go crashing through the glass window unless one could some how manage to land on remnants of the platform in front of the window. It could never be done...  
  
Feeling discouraged once again, he turned his attention back to the girl he clutched so dearly. There was a slight movement from the previously still body. His emerald green eyes blinked, startled by the tiny motion. Her eyelashes had fluttered, but it was too slight to determine whether she was waking up, or a breeze had floated in through an open window and brushed them.  
  
A new light of hope sparked inside the child. Holding onto her shoulders, shaking them gently, he leaned closer to her, so his mouth was less than an inch away from her billy goat ears.  
  
"Can you hear me?" he whispered, his voice soft and soothing. "You have to get up..." He gulped attempting to quell his riled nerves. "If you don't, we're going to die." He took a deep breath to sort out his thoughts. "I'm not going without you." He paused and then repeated the inquiry he had made earlier. "Can you hear me?"  
  
His ears listened carefully for any signs of comprehension. But his plead still received no answer. Finally giving up to defeat, he turned away from the long-legged girl to stare at the bulletin board across the hall. Her words from earlier in the evening continued to repeat in his mind. She cared about him, she really did. She wanted him to be safe, to live to be 10.   
  
He drew his knees to his chin, feeling depressed. The hallways loomed with the scent of thick smoke and grew darker every minute. The darkness was so frightening, one could not see what was there, one could only guess at what the shadows, or outlines really were. The hallways would continue to grow darker until the fire reached them. It was either that or the building would collapse first.   
  
Still trying to get his mind off his bleak thoughts, Arnold studied the bulletin board across the hall. There were flyers for the upcoming winter dance and bake sale. He licked his red lips with his tongue. Just the thought of the rich chocolate chip cookies and moist brownies made his mouth water. He wondered if he would ever receive an opportunity to taste those delectable desserts again.  
  
He shifted his eyes sadly, letting them rest on an another bulletin. This white sheet of paper had the daily schedule printed on it. He read the contents out-loud to himself softly. "9:00, school commences with tardy bell, 9:05 attendance, 9:15 pledge and announcements, 9:25 first..."  
  
Arnold paused in his reading. He blinked at the words printed in black and white. His hear rate quickened with excitement as he jumped to his feet. Perhaps there was a way...  
  
"I can hear you." The 9-year-old froze; his face moist from excessive sweating was expressionless while his skinny legs locked in place on the floor.   
  
Standing still like an intimate object, perhaps similar to a statue, he held his breath and closed his eyes, allowing those few words so softly uttered to be absorbed in his mind. Finally, he slowly turned his taco head, forcing his eyes, now a misty green, to settle on what laid scrunched upon the tiled floor against the wall.  
  
All reason and rationale slipped out of that footballhead and vanished into the air. He flung his fair arms around the crouching figure, burying his sticky, reddened face onto the figure's shoulder. For a while he simply embraced her, thankful her time had not come yet.  
  
Reluctantly, Arnold pulled his head away from her shoulder, as comfortable as a pillow where he could rest and fade away into his own jubilant dreamland. He flicked away a few bothersome wisps of hair that were sticking to his face. He gazed into those blue eyes, which held such elaborate shades, making it nearly impossible to depict exactly what shade of color they actually were.  
  
"Helga, you're alive!" he cried joyfully. Her blue eyes stared up at him with confusion evident from her puzzled expression.  
  
"Doi, of course I'm alive. I wasn't aware that I might have checked out!" she snapped irritably, sitting upright. She then proceeded to survey her surroundings. "Footballhead, where are we?"  
  
Now it was her old schoolmate's turn to give her a quizzical look. "Don't you remember?" Arnold extended his hand out to touch her arm as if it would allow the memory to transfer into her. "The fire?"  
  
Color drained from her previously flushed cheeks. A despairing look formed on her face. "I thought that was just some nightmare," she mumbled.  
  
The boy stood up, brushing off his blue pants and white shirt. He offered the blond a hand, and gently helped her off the tiled floor. Arnold stood awhile, Helga's hand still clasped in his. He studied their hands for a moment, focusing on the fact that his companion had not performed her customary tradition of snatching her hand away from his own.  
  
"Helga," he began softly, his voiced hushed with seriousness.  
  
"Yes?" she prodded, watching him still staring at their locked hands.  
  
"I know how we can get out of here."  
  
"Oh." For some absurd reason Helga sounded disappointed rather than excited that there might be an alternative to death. It was almost as if she had been anticipating something else...  
  
Green eyes were lifted and rested on her blue ones. "I've got an idea," continued the 9-year-old. "And I think it might work."  
  
"Well you'd better spill it quick, Footballhead!" Life was beginning to pulse through her body with the same intensity that was a trademark of the high-strung girl. Helga allowed herself to glance fearfully over her shoulder, well aware that the flames were closing in on them.  
  
Her beloved spoke quickly, the contents of his plan of action spilling out rapidly, making the contrivance difficult to comprehend. His innocent voice was full of excitement and assurance. When he finished his spiel, he stood there solemnly, waiting her response.  
  
The words began to absorb in her mind and a sanguine smile crept across her scarred face that she did not even bother to try and hide.  
  
For the first time since they had been trapped inside the elementary school death did not seem right around the corner. Those pearly gates were father in the distance now, and the Grim Reaper's breath was fading, the outline of his ominous figure vanishing in the air, making his journey to find victims elsewhere.  
  
"Okay, the music room should be in this hallway." He spun around and darted towards a door near the end. Helga had to let a lovesick sigh escape from her mouth. She stared after him for a moment or two until he looked over his shoulder to meet her gaze. "Come on, Helga!"  
  
"I'm coming, criminey!" she grumbled, snapping out of her romantic mood. She sprinted towards him. He had halted at a door. A drop of sweat rolled down the side of her face as she saw him reach his hand out to touch the brass doorknob.  
  
"Arnold, no!" she shrieked suddenly, diving towards his body. Before his fingertips could touch the doorknob, she tackled him to the tiled floor.  
  
Arnold lay there very confused, staring up at the pig-tailed girl who was pinning him down. "Helga, what did you do that for?" he asked, slightly annoyed. She narrowed her eyes at him.  
  
"Are you aware of how much of an idiot you are?" she asked, close to screaming. Arnold covered his ears and flinched from the pain Helga's loud voice had inflicted upon him. She did not wait for him to respond to her inquiry.  
  
"The room could be on fire! If you had opened that door..." She shuddered at the mere thought. She got off of him and went to stand in front of the wooden door. There was a brass sign that read: "Music Room 207."  
  
Carefully, she reached her hand up to touch the brass knob. Then thinking better of it, she ripped off the sleeve of her white shirt. Holding it against her palm, to protect the tender flesh, Helga hesitantly extended her hand towards it. She let the cloth, with her hand pressed against it, brush against the doorknob.   
  
Immediately after coming in contact, she jerked her hand away, omitting a small cry. She dropped the white cloth and gripped her right wrist with her left hand. The redness from the heat of the doorknob throbbed in pain on her right palm despite the protective layer of cloth.  
  
She turned towards Arnold who was still lying bewildered on the floor. "We've got to get out of here, now!" she cried. Helga reached out with her good hand to haul the boy up to his feet. She then began sprinting down the hall away from the door, half-dragging Arnold.  
  
He paused for a second to glance back over his shoulder. He gasped at the sight. Where they had been standing only moments ago was now ignited with flames. The door was being burned to ashes. Arnold turned his attention to focus on what lay in front of him and not behind him.  
  
"There's got to be another room," he drifted hesitantly. 'What if there wasn't? What if...?' Shaking those dreadful thoughts that were trying to bring about his and Helga's downfall from looming in his mind, he noticed another door.  
  
Halting in their mad retreat, he stepped towards it. Mimicking Helga, he ripped off a piece of his shirt and placed it against his palm before extending it out to touch the knob. He brushed it, waiting for the sharp pain to seep into his flesh. There was none. He grabbed hold of the knob firmly and still there was nothing. Slowly, he turned the doorknob, hearing a clicking sound as the door creaked open.  
  
The room was darker than the hallways. He stepped in, eyes darting around. It had to be here. It just had to. He inspected the room. Where was it? Finally in the corner of his eye he spotted the object he had been searching for. He seriously doubted that his heart had never been happier to see the sight of an American flag then at that gleeful moment.  
  
"Helga, I found one!" he cried. Helga's figure soon appeared in the doorway, her eyes shining hopefully.  
  
"You did?" The boy grinned, holding up a rope like it was a long lost treasure chest, or a diamond with glittering facets that shone even through the darkness and the dreariness of the evening. "Tie the knot, quick Footballhead!"  
  
Obeying her command, Arnold wrapped the rope around itself, forming a small loop, tied securely. He ripped the flag off the rope. "Sorry about this, Uncle Sam," he muttered under his breath. He lifted the knot in the air, showing his accomplishment. His companion simply nodded in approval.  
  
"We have to hurry." The two raced off down the hallway, feet pounding on the tiled surface. They slowed down upon arriving at the corner of the corridor, both recalling their near fatal mistake the previous time. After exchanging a fearful glance, they turned the corner.   
  
The hole to their dismay had spread wider. Its exact length was hard to determine from the flames blocking their view. At the edge of the gapping hole, gleamed a single window, glass shimmering from either the reflective light of the flames, or the bright red lights of fire-trucks and ambulances that shone outside the structure.   
  
Helga gulped, stepping forward. She took the rope from Arnold. Her eyes scanned the hall until she spotted the small iron hook that had been able to withstand the intense heat. The hook was where the fire extinguisher was supposed to be, but unfortunately no one had replaced the essential item since Curly had taken a ride on it.   
  
Licking her dry lips, she threw the rope out towards the wall. The two children held their breath as the rope floated in air as if debating what their fate should be. It flew past the iron hook. Quickly, she reeled the rope back in before it could catch on fire. She was about to try again when she felt a strange sensation in her body.  
  
She stepped back from the ledge, keeling over. Helga felt like someone had grabbed her throat and lungs and twisted them to try and make a wiener balloon dog out of her internal organs. She coughed, and gasped, her lungs crying out for fresh, clean air.  
  
"Helga, are you alirght?" asked Arnold, his eyes full of concern. The blue eyed girl lifted her white shirt to cover her mouth, a vain attempt to try to filter the smoke-filled air and keep it from poisoning her lungs like a dangerous toxin.   
  
"You do it," she whispered, thrusting the rope to him. He studied her for a moment. Her right hand held up the collar of her shirt to her mouth while her left hand pressed against her chest as if to keep it from exploding from the lack of air.  
  
Arnold turned back to the task that lay at hand. He had to make the rope catch hold of the hook. It was the only way. Inhaling deeply, trying to muster up all the strength he had, he threw the rope. Its fibers left the skin of his fingers as it went flying into the air. He stood waiting, watching.   
  
As the rope seemed to hang in the air, he let his mind drift away, far away from the fire, from the fear, from the darkness.   
  
He was back home with the gang. He opened the door to the red boardinghouse to see all of them on his stoop waiting for his arrival.  
  
"Took you long enough, geekbait!" Helga cried. Gerald rolled his eyes.  
  
"Come on man, let's go to Gerald Field and play ball."   
  
Just like it used to be. Why couldn't life be simpler? Why did life have to torture them with pain? Why can't....  
  
He paused, sensing the hopelessness in asking all those questions about why things were the way they are. A grin formed, remembering when Mr. Simmons had first come to PS 118 and how much they had tortured him. He recalled his words:  
  
'Never stop asking why.'  
  
'Then why can't life make sense? Why can't I just go home? Why can't I wake up to find that this whole incident is merely a dream, a figment of my sub-conscious working, and nothing else? Why won't anyone answer me???'  
  
Frustrated by life's lack of simplicity, Arnold was thankful when he was startled out of his thoughts by a noise. He glanced up to see the loop he had made in the rope attach to the hook on the wall of the hallway. A perfect throw. He yanked on his side of the rope. It held well. They could swing over to the window, one at a time.   
  
They would be safe; they would be okay. They would go back to the outside world, although chilled with the fall air, still somehow warm with the familiar faces of friends and families. They would be able to look up into the starless sky once again and they would laugh.   
  
Laugh at the sheer idea that they could have not made it. Chuckle at the very thought that they could have gone to the pearly gates with those shiny handles glittering in the moonlight, almost daring them to enter, looking straight ahead, not daring to turn their heads and stare over their shoulders to see all that they were leaving behind them.   
  
They would laugh until their sides ached; people would think they were crazy from their hysterics, but they wouldn't be. They would just be happy. Happy that all was well again; happy that their dreams might still come true; that they'd see another sunrise, taste another Mr. Fudgie Bar, and play another game of stickball at the vacant lot. Just like they used to, just like they always had and always will.   
  
Arnold then remembered his companion. She was lying scrunched up on the floor, her knees drawn to her chin, rocking back and forth a little, coughing violently.  
  
"Helga?" Snapped out of her own thoughts, she opened her eyes, shining with their mixed shades of blue. He offered her a hopeful smile. "The rope's latched onto the hook." She nodded, refusing to say anything out-loud. The pain in her throat was becoming all too unbearable. "Do you think you will be able to swing by yourself? I'm not sure if the rope can hold the both of us and-"  
  
Her hand fluttered up, a sign to be quiet. She nodded, mouthing the words: "I think I can." Just like the little engine that could.  
  
"Want to go first? It's strong enough to hold you and I can help you take a running start, then you can land by the platform in front of the window. The hole will be smaller then. You can throw the end of the rope back to me."  
  
Helga stood up, brushing particles of dirt off the remains of her pink jumper. "I'll go first." Her voice was barely a whisper. She felt the fibers of the rope in her hand. Arnold backed her up, so they were about 10 feet from the hole where the flames continued to spurt out randomly with its unstoppable quest and its indescribable fierceness.  
  
She clung to the rope, biting her lip from the pain that throbbed in her right hand, from her burn with the encounter with the doorknob. But she ignored the pain; she had to hold onto the rope. It was the only way. She could feel Arnold's hands on her waist. If not given the circumstances she probably would have fainted from his touch.   
  
"Ready?" She nodded. "Whatever you do, don't let go of that rope." Helga couldn't help, but roll her eyes. If she had not been in so much pain she would have screamed 'Doi!' in his face. Instead her eyes focused on the window. It seemed to get farther away with ever second that passed. "Okay here we go." She didn't get a chance to scream 'No, wait!' Her legs mechanically began to run and as she reached the edge she glanced down at the flames.  
  
They burned savagely. She shut her eyes immediately, feeling her feet leave the tiled floor as Arnold gave her a giant push like she was a young preschooler jubilantly playing on a swing. Helga couldn't hear anything; the crackling sounds muffled out everything. And even if she had opened her eyes all she would have seen was an overwhelming darkness.  
  
Helga did not cry out as her legs whipped through the flames over the hole, or when she hit the tiled floor with a hard thud. She forced her blue eyes to open. With one hand still clinging onto the rope, she stood up. She had made it. She stood on the remains of the hallway, although being quickly eaten away by the fire, still held.  
  
Forgetting her pain, Helga turned to gaze out the window and past her reflection in it. Outside there was a crowd of people, somehow in the sea of faces she was able to make out the outlines of her parents and Phoebe. It was pitch black except for the red lights of the firetrucks that twirled, their light almost blinding.  
  
She jerked her head away from the window, glancing at the rope she still clutched tightly. She stood on her tip-toes to try and see over the roaring flames. "Arnold, I've got the rope!" she yelled, despite the pain. Silence. "Arnold, where are you? I need to throw it back to you so you can swing over!" Nothing answered her. "ARNOLD???!!"  
  
Helga paced around on the platform, frantically. He had pushed her when she had been swinging over. She had felt his hands. But where was he? She couldn't see him...where could he have gone-  
  
Helga suddenly coughed, her whole body shaking. Her lungs were screaming for her to forget about him and just jump out the window where she would be safe with smoke free air. She jerked her head back towards the window. The sky was a blanket of smoke. She frowned. Maybe it wasn't exactly smoke free air.  
  
That was when she saw it, shining its rays through the blanket. She had to scowl at its sight. Wasn't it it's fault that they were in this predicament? Her red face, darkened, growing cloudy with anger. But it didn't leave; it continued to glow, a glittering diamond in a sea of blackness.   
  
Overwhelmed by her weak lungs, she fell to the floor, gasping for air, reaching one hand out to open the window. In her coughing fit something slipped from a pocket in the remnants of her pink dress. A soft sound was heard as the object fell, its heart shape clattering across the tiled floor. The golden face shimmered in the light from the fire for a split-second before it disappeared down the hole, swallowed by the flames.  
  
Helga could only stare in shock. She blinked. Her red lips formed a word, but not a single sound came from them.  
  
  
**********************************  
  
That's all for now. Sorry again for taking so long in updating this.  
  
So, please let me know what you thought. I won't know if you liked it/hated it, or if you want me to continue/stop unless you review.  
  
Thanks for taking the time to read this. I appreciate it more than you probably think.  
  
  
*****Ooops, I forgot to mention this earlier, but I've kinda been looking for someone to be an editor, or something similar to that. I guess what I need at least is someone who won't mind me e-mailing a rough copy of a fic and giving their honest opinions on it and what sort of improvements it might need. If anyone's interested in doing this, just email me. Thanks, again!! ~Kimba  
  



	5. Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust

Kimba here…once again I apologize for the delay (yes, I know I do this too much). I usually try to make   
sure that I've updated this story at least before its no longer in the top 50 most recently updated. But heh, I   
guess I'm just a tad late.  
  
Okay, I've thought long and hard and I'd like to dedicate this story to: Offcentre- for beta reading and   
putting up with my lack of grammar skills. Jedy- for being such a great friend when I was going through   
some hard times. And finally in loving memory of the idea, 'The Patakis'- the world will never known   
what it missed out on.   
  
Disclaimer: Can't say that I'm the owner of either Hey Arnold! or the lyrics of the song 'This Old Town'  
*no, this is not a songfic  
  
Finally….  
  
  
  
Chapter 5: Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust  
  
(Not a very promising title is it?)   
  
  
  
The girl stared at the hole. Some of her blonde hair had fallen out of her pigtails and the strands clung to   
her neck, which glistened with sweat. She swallowed hard and felt her chest heave with each shuddering   
breath.  
  
The flames continued to roar; their sound was deafening. The light of the fire played across her reddened   
face while she lay on the tiled floor. She looked over the shoulder at the tempting window, but then turned   
back hastily, the decision made. She was not going to leave. Not without him.   
  
It was her fault. If she had done things just a little differently then…well, then she wouldn't be on the tiled   
floor, watching the school burn down and wanting to go down with it. But then again, maybe it was not her   
fault. Maybe it was not anyone's. Helga looked thoughtful for a moment, ignoring the mix of yellow,   
orange, and red, that continued to spread. Perhaps this was what was supposed to happen. She scowled to   
herself. She wished fate were standing right in front of her- she was more than ready to introduce it to ol'   
Betsy.  
  
Suddenly a piece of the roof above her fell and came crashing on top of the hole, crushing a few flames as   
it plummeted downwards. The girl's mouth opened a little, speechless as she saw what some of the flames   
had been blocking. She stood up rapidly, thankful that she had kept the rope, which had not yet fallen to   
the clutches of the fire.  
  
"Arnold!" she screamed hoarsely with her aching throat.   
  
Arnold looked over his shoulder at her, startled that she was still there. "Helga- just get out of here!"   
cried the tiny boy, dangling onto the edge on the far side.   
  
Helga looked back at him, one hand clutching the rope. She scowled at him, eyes piercing with their   
intensity. "NO!" Her voice was stubborn and strong, hiding the aching pain that lurked in her throat and   
lungs.   
  
She grabbed the rope with both hands and backed up so her body was pressed against the wall. She   
mustered up all the energy she had left and took a running start. Her long legs sailed over the hole and   
landed inexpertly on the far ledge. She stood there a moment, regaining her breath before she turned   
around to face him.  
  
His hands were holding on to the edge while his legs dangled in the air. His body could feel the closeness   
of the flames, and he did not cry out when he felt it catch on his clothes. Arnold could hear Helga gasp, but   
he refused to look at her, preferring to close his eyes and shut out everything. It burned through his clothes,   
and he let his grip on the wood loosen.  
  
'Just let go…it'll all be over then…just let go.' A strange, stern voice commanded him to do so. 'End the   
pain…it's easier this way.' He bit his lip hard and allowed the blood to trickle down and stain what was   
left of his white shirt. 'It hurts…it burns so bad…'  
  
Helga, sensing his movements, dived towards him, still clutching the rope. She extended her hands out to   
him. Horrified, she saw his filthy, burned hands suddenly let go of the ledge. She screamed.  
  
"Arnold!!" He disappeared into the darkness.  
  
Helga dove after him, one hand extended. She grabbed something- a leg, to be more accurate- and then   
came to a sudden halt, hanging in mid-air. They dangled there, Helga with one hand still clutching the rope   
and with the other holding onto Arnold.   
  
Perspiration formed on her forehead and dripped down her cheeks. Both arms were strained and she was   
well aware that she could not hold him much longer. She glanced up at the opening in the ceiling, at the   
hole, noticing that it was about ten feet above them. All the while the flames burned fiercely a mere few   
inches away.  
  
Arnold looked up at her, his pained green eyes pleading. "Let go of me, Helga, just let go," he begged.   
Helga shook her head defiantly. Her eyes scanned around the corridor or what was left of it. It was dark   
and she could hardly see. Suddenly, in the corner of one of her eyes she spotted a window of the 1st floor.   
Her blue eyes enlarged as she saw the images of the fire and themselves on the panes.   
  
"Arnold, we can just swing out of here and through that window!" Arnold adjusted himself so he could see   
the place Helga was referring to and how far off it was. "I'll get the rope swinging and then when the   
time's right I'll let go, okay?"  
  
Without warning, the girl coughed, her whole body shaking. The child looked up at his companion, feeling   
guilt pulse circulate through his arteries. "Are you sure you can make it, Helga? I mean, if it were just   
you, you probably could, but there's two of us."  
  
Blue eyes shone savagely. "Do you know have any other way?!" she snapped, but then softened. "You   
have to trust me- it's our only chance… please?"  
  
Arnold looked thoughtful. How could he trust the girl who had spent her entire life torturing him? How   
could anyone trust a person who would trip him at any given opportunity and mock him with petty insults?   
But then again, after everything that had happened…how fear had brought out a softer side in her. She had   
told him that he should have left her there, that she wished he had abandoned her…almost as if all she had   
ever wanted was simply for him to be…  
  
"I trust you…" They began to swing and the momentum grew until suddenly he could feel Helga's grip on   
the rope release. Was it too early? Was it too late? He did not seize a chance to see because   
unconsciousness swallowed him whole.  
  
  
****************************************  
  
  
Gerald watched the ground. He could hear the screams and the loud cracking sounds of the splintered   
wood and the fire engulfing it. Gone. All gone. The building, two of his classmates, his best friend- were   
no more. Emptiness surged inside of him and seemed to take control of him. He gave up for the first time   
that night, letting the spasms of grief shake his body and allowing the sobs to nearly choke him.   
  
He heard glass shattering, but he did not even bother to look up. He could not bear the sight anymore; the   
strength he had at one point possessed had vanished into the smoke-filled air. His eyes jerked up to the   
sky, to what shone above the building.   
  
His unwiped nose wrinkled in disgust. He heard more glass shattering, but did not move a muscle. The   
star…that star…how he wished… He heard some shouting, and it grew louder and a wave of screams ran   
through the crowd.  
  
"Oh my gosh!"  
"It can't be…"  
"…and deliver us from evil, now and at the hour of our-"  
"Get them! NOW!"  
  
Two small lumps lay on the grass surrounded by glass and ignited pieces of wood, and a few feet away   
from them was the school structure swaying threateningly. A large man darted towards the building with   
the light of the flames glistening on his shiny, red suit. He picked up one small lump with one hand and the   
other with another hand. Abruptly, he spun around, sprinting, legs pumping, heart beating uncontrollably,   
and the adrenaline rushing wildly.  
  
There was a high, shrill scream when it fell. Then came the explosion; the force was so strong that people   
grabbed onto each other to steady themselves. The flames spouted out in the air and the ashes flew; pieces   
of wood were thrown into the streets. The chaos was overwhelming.  
  
"Get them in the ambulance now!"  
"There are too many people- we can't get out!"  
"Do we have a pulse in either?"  
"Well make them get out! I don't care if-"  
"Negative."  
"-you have to run them over, just-"  
"Are they breathing?"  
"-get them there!"  
"Negative."  
"Get out of the way!"  
  
The stretchers were loaded onto an ambulance, sirens screaming and lights flashing. The ambulances   
pushed through the crowds, trying to get past the hordes of people. The sea of people surprisingly parted,   
as if they were at the command of a force stronger than they were, and they formed a perfect pathway to the   
hospital. The ambulance roared as the driver pressed down hard on the accelerator and flew down the road,   
away from the still-burning flames.  
  
Gerald watched, sniffling. Then he felt something on his head, then on his shoulder. He looked up and   
stared at the glittering object, still shining through the clouds, through it all. He felt the strange sensations   
on his face and he closed his eyes, letting his salty tears mix with the rain that began to fall.  
  
As quickly as it had appeared, it slowly began to diminish thanks to the firemen's persistent efforts and the   
sudden precipitation. The little boy held his hands up, letting the water fall onto his dry palms, sobbing   
still.   
  
A hand was place on his shoulder and gripped it firmly. "Let's go home, son." The little boy nodded,   
studying the sky for a bit before turning back. He took a step away hesitantly and then, with a growing   
confidence, stepped faster as the rain began to pound down, causing his tall hair to sag with the moisture.   
At no time did he turn his head to look over his shoulder and gaze upon the remnants behind him. There   
was no need to.   
  
****************************************  
  
The sun peeked out from behind the structures, its rays silhouetting the tall buildings of the city. The   
night's clouds had dispersed, leaving only a few wispy formations from earlier, but there were still some   
clouds lingering. The rain had stopped long ago.  
  
The branches of the trees in the park rustled in the small breeze that blew. The leaves on the ground were   
picked up and twirled in the air, forming small little circles full of blinding colors. Red, yellow, orange-   
and they blended into the background of the rising sun. The grass was pressed against one side from the   
air's strong force.  
  
The breeze continued, gaining momentum to become a steady wind over the city even over a corner still   
wrapped in yellow tape. The wind raised the dust and flung it into the air. Particles hung in the air before   
the wind died down, and the dust fell back to the ground.  
  
Suddenly a footprint was made in the dust. The outlines indicated the sharp heel and fashionably pointed   
toe of a woman's shoe. The footprints continued making their way through the rubble carefully. They   
stopped suddenly as the person who had made those footprints halted, studying a figure with its back to her,   
sitting on a rock.  
  
The woman tried to keep her brown hair in place as a few strands flew, partly blocking her vision. She   
took another step closer to the rock. It was light gray, covered with sot and ash. It was not quite spherical-   
the edges angled off too abruptly and the top formed a smooth surface- but it was still round.  
  
The figure seated swayed a little in the breeze. The women took one last step so she stood directly behind   
the person on the rock. She saw the object it held in its hands, clutching tightly, and she noticed the small   
drawings that had been made in the dust, which were quickly destroyed upon the figure's realization of her   
presence.  
  
"I'm sorry," began the woman, her voice soft and soothing. "I didn't mean to disturb you." The boy on the   
rock continued to sit there, staring out into the oblivion. A few moments of silence passed; finally the boy   
turned to acknowledge the woman's attendance. His glasses were dimmed with mist, his breathing heavy,   
and his shirt was so covered with particles of dust, dirt, and ash that it made it impossible to determine what   
color it originally was.  
  
"What are you doing out here?"  
  
"Something," answered the boy simply, his voice lacking emotion. There was silence again except for the   
steady breathing that came from the child.  
  
"Would you like me to…to give that back to her?" The woman motioned towards what the boy clutched in   
his hands. He jerked his head back to study the object a moment before thrusting it towards her with a   
mysterious comprehension of the situation.  
  
"Yeah." The woman took it and let her fingers trace the outline. She blinked, slightly startled. Her lips   
parted as she stared flipping the object over.  
  
"How could it survive?" she asked finally, brown eyes still locked on the face. The boy shrugged, turning   
back around, to stare down the street. "Not a scratch, not a dent, nothing at all. It's perfect, brand new.   
Thank you for fin-" The woman looked up to find herself alone. The boy was gone. She gasped,   
surveying her surroundings, but not a trace could be found, like he had just vanished into the air.  
  
The woman stood there, the wind blowing wildly now and the dust taken out of its place, swirling in the air,   
only to fall back down again. The peacefulness of the morning frightened her, and she spun on her heels   
and began to make her way out of the mass of rubble, a souvenir of the previous night's devastating fire.  
  
******************************************   
  
"NOOOOOOOO!"  
  
He sat straight up in bed. His face was covered with beads of sweat. He breathed in deeply and exhaled,   
wincing a little. He looked around the room and finally realized that he was in a very unfamiliar place.  
  
The whitewashed walls gave off the smell of ammonium while the speckled tiles gleamed, showing off that   
recently they had been freshly waxed. Flowered curtains hung, homely and blowing a little in the breeze.   
The large window let rays of sunlight pour into the room.   
  
Suddenly the door creaked open, and a woman with a wrinkled face and tired eyes peeked in. "Oh, good,   
you're up, hun. The doctors were pretty worried about you and your little friend. When we first got you   
two in here neither of you young'uns were breathing nor had a pulse. At first we thought you were goners,   
but those doctors hooked you young'uns up to a machine." She grinned a little, displaying her crooked   
teeth. She stepped inside the room.  
  
She was a short and plump woman with large shoulders. Gray and frail hair framed the round face, and her   
eyes were too large for her sockets. Bags of fat hung around her cheeks and all over her body. Light skin   
showed her blue veins, which clashed against the polka-dotted dress she wore.  
  
"You two are awfully lucky we're well equipped with life support. Awfully lucky," she repeated. "Can't   
figure how you two could stay in that school for so long without suffocating. It's a puzzling mystery." She   
paused and remembered what her original purpose was. The nurse glanced down at the quilted blankets her   
wrinkled hands held and grumbled to herself.   
  
"Here's some blankets to keep you from getting a chill. Doctors want you two to get fresh air, but we can't   
have you catching a chill, now, can we?" The woman placed the quilt on the bed and pushed it close to the   
boy's face as if he were her child and she was tucking him in to get a good night's rest. "You're going to   
be fine. Your little friend is too."   
  
The nurse motioned to a bed on the far side, which the boy had not noticed previously. He watched the   
lump on the bed intently, chest rising and then falling with every breath. "Her lungs were quite a sight.   
Full of smoke, they were."   
  
She shook her head. "And her hands- scorched! They're wrapped up in bandages. Hard to tell if they'll   
ever heal. Might though, but there'll always be a few scars. But still, she's awfully lucky, so awfully   
lucky." She nodded at the boy and then grinned sheepishly.  
  
"I'm probably scaring the living daylights out of you!" She chuckled to herself. "Well I gotta go. I'm   
only supposed to be delivering those blankets." She walked over towards the lump on the far side of the   
room. Carefully, she wrapped a quilted blanket that held intricate patterns around the lump. She smiled at   
the lump for a while before jerking her head back up.   
  
"Now, you be good and don't go trying to wake her up. Just let her be. She'll come around soon. Would   
have had a separate room for you, but this week there was a baby boom. No rooms left, so you're just   
going to have make do with this. Ain't that bad, is it?" She surveyed the room. "Now don't you dare   
answer that question." Without another word, the nurse left.   
  
"Arnold?" The lump sat up. "Is she gone?"  
  
"Um, yeah." The lump stretched her arms and then yelped a little with pain. She then turned to face him   
and each was startled at what they saw.  
  
Helga's face had a long burn along the left side. There were multiple scratches and scars blotted on her   
forehead. Her hands rested in her lap. They were covered in big, white bandages and just the thought of   
what the layers of bandages were covering made Arnold cringe.  
  
Arnold himself was a sight to see. Helga could see the scars on his neck from the flames. His burns were   
mostly on his arms and legs, which were tucked away under the blankets of the hospital bed, but Helga   
knew they were there, and that there was a big, black gash on his back under the hospital gown. His hair   
was messed up also and stuck up everywhere from lying on a pillow for too long.  
  
The two suddenly looked away, embarrassed that they had been staring. Helga slowly lifted her feet off the   
bed and placed them on the ground. Her hands helped herself up. Her legs had- amazingly enough- been   
left unscathed, unlike Arnold's. She made her way across the speckled floor and stopped by the window   
where she looked out at the world outside full of people, places, and dreams.  
  
"I wonder what day it is." Helga spun around and narrowed her eyes at the boy, who just gazed timidly   
back at her, his green eyes seeming mistier than normal.  
  
"I don't know and I don't care." She paused and looked thoughtful. "You know, footballhead, I never did   
get a chance to really thank you for… you know…coming back." She turned back to the window, not   
wanting him to see her flushed face.  
  
"Helga…I've got a confession to make." His voice was full of shame. Helga immediately whirled around,   
blue eyes wide and she walked quickly towards him. She sat on the far end of his bed and waited   
impatiently.  
  
"You'd better spill it." He studied his hands for a while before allowing his vision to fall back on Helga.  
  
"I know that you probably think you're to blame for what happened, but you aren't. If blame has to be   
labeled on anyone you should put it on me. I was talking to Lila while you were gone and I didn't even   
notice that you didn't come back. If it wasn't for me…" The boy hung his head in shame. "I'm sorry."  
  
"Is that your confession?"  
  
"Well, yeah…what did you think it was going to be?"   
  
Helga looked away. She had gotten her hopes up again. How could she have ever let herself think that   
Arnold might actually confess his undying love for her? Disappointment stung and throbbed painfully in   
her wounds, almost mocking her for her vain efforts.  
  
"Helga, I know you could have just left me there to die easily." Helga studied the opposite wall, where a   
painting by Monet hung on the surface. She focused her eyes on the pond and the lilypads. "But you   
didn't, Helga, you refused to leave me. You didn't go without me and-" He paused, feeling flustered.   
"Thanks for staying, for helping me out."  
  
Helga finally allowed her eyes to turn back to Arnold, hoping that the disappointment had drained from   
them. He had drawn closer to her and sat only a few feet away from her on the bed. "It was nothing." She   
shook him off, knowing he was getting too close.  
  
"No it wasn't. It was definitely-"  
  
"What about you?" cried Helga, panicky for the boy had inched his body even closer to hers in more ways   
then one. "You were too stubborn to get out before it spread."   
  
The scarred face softened. "I couldn't just leave you." He fiddled with his hands for a moment. "I guess   
neither of us wanted to leave without the other." He looked up at her. "You saved my life-"  
  
"You saved mine!" Helga pointed out nervously, for he had inched nearer.  
  
"For what you did I could almost…I almost want to…I want to…" He was now adjacent to her on the bed,   
and he peered into her frightened blue eyes.  
  
"Want to what?" Her voice was barely above a whisper. His face was getting closer now and she could   
see the darkness of the scars, see the depth of the green in his eyes, and feel his breath, which hinted that he   
had drunk a Yahoo Soda not too long ago.  
  
"Thank you…" His voice was hushed and deeper than normal. He leaned closer, shyly and hesitantly. He   
stopped when his lips were barely an inch away from her red ones. He waited a bit, bewildered by his   
actions and how awfully close they suddenly were. Helga closed her eyes, deciding that this was simply a   
dream and allowing the best part to come.  
  
Like a strange, involuntary impulse, he moved his head just a little closer, so their foreheads brushed. Then   
their lips touched. Helga reached her hands up and, despite the bandages, was about to wrap them around   
the boy's neck. That was when the door flung open.  
  
"Hey! Wha-?" The two immediately jumped back. Arnold ended up banging his head against the bedpost   
while Helga fell on to the floor. Both rubbed their sore spots from the hard impact and both turned their   
heads to see a boy standing at the doorway, mouth agape, eyes widened, looking very confused.  
  
"Um, hey, Gerald, what's up?" croaked the 9 year-old, smiling sheepishly. Dark brown eyes looked from   
boy to girl to boy to girl to back at the boy again.  
  
"Sorry, I didn't know I was interrupting something." He frowned and kept looking back and forth between   
the two children, as if they were sending secret messages to each other and he was attempting to decode   
them.   
  
"You weren't interrupting anything, Tall Hair Boy," Helga added quickly. Gerald raised his thin eyebrows,   
studying them curiously.  
  
"Oh." An embarrassed silence lasted a little longer until Gerald spoke up. "I sneaked past the nurses. I   
don't think visiting hours are supposed to start for another half hour."   
  
"Whoop-de-doo- for you." Helga stood up, wiping off the hospital gown. She glared at Gerald before she   
made her way back to her own bed, silently. Dark eyes studied her before being averted by a voice that   
suddenly had found the power to speak.  
  
"What day is it?" he asked, to distract his friend's attention away from the scene that had taken place only   
minutes ago. It worked.  
  
"It's Sunday. You've guys were unconscious all yesterday. Both your families came by and visited you   
for a while. They'll probably be back soon. The doctors reassured them, but I bet they're still worried."  
  
"How's everyone?"   
  
Gerald shrugged, eyes focused on the floor. "They're okay. Pretty shaken up, but I guess we all are." He   
traced a square tile with his foot. "We thought you two were goners," he replied seriously.   
  
Arnold simply nodded understandingly. "We thought we were goners." He looked down at his right arm   
and the huge burn it had where the skin wrinkled. He wondered if it would ever heal.  
  
"Are you two okay?" asked Gerald, blurting out what was on his mind. "I mean you guys did have an   
awfully close encounter with death." Helga, who was seated on her bed, looked up and rolled her   
shoulders.   
  
Arnold folded his arms and rested them in his lap. He sighed sadly. "It's odd, in a way, what happened."  
  
"What's it like to be so close to kicking the bucket?" prodded the boy, allowing himself to sit on the foot of   
Arnold's bed. His eyes widened in anticipation of the answer, which was just a shrug from Arnold.  
  
"It's too hard to explain what happened in there. It seems all blurred together when I look back on it now."   
He grinned a little. "It's funny; while it was happening it seemed like everything was taking place so   
slowly, but now when I look back it all runs together." The boy looked contemplative, trying to understand   
what had transpired. "But, you know, something did happen."  
  
"What?" Both Helga's and Gerald's attentions were now focused on the boy scrunched up in the hospital   
bed.   
  
"It's like-" The boy became inarticulate for a moment, letting his mouth hang open, exposing his white   
teeth and pink tongue. He then shut it and bit his lip hard. He started over. "It's like…something in   
there…at school I mean…it's like-" He paused again, studying his hands and their scars. He gave it one   
final try. "It's like…something died."  
  
"What do you mean died?"  
  
"I mean something died…kicked the bucket…you know what I mean."  
  
"Well I know that part, but-" Gerald peered at his friend. "But what I don't understand is who- there   
wasn't anyone else in the building, it's not possible that-"  
  
"No, no, it's not like that. It's like something died- not someone- something…I don't know what, but I   
know something got burned in those flames…" He turned to look out the window, his face suddenly   
solemn and his eyes sullen.  
  
His dark schoolmate blinked, feeling at a loss as to what to say. He gazed at his friend, and reached his   
hand out to touch the blonde boy's shoulder, but in mid-air he opted against it and jerked his hand back to   
his side.  
  
Helga just stared at the boy before averting her line of vision. It's like something died. Something died.   
Would there be a funeral service? Would they say a prayer? Would they say 'ashes to ashes, dust to dust,   
back to where you came from, back to where you belong'?  
  
*************************************  
  
"This old town should've burned down in 1929  
That's when we stood in line  
Waiting for our soup,  
Swallowing our pride  
This old town should've burned down in 1931  
When the rain refused to come  
Air filled up our bellies,  
Dust filled up our lungs  
And we thought our time had come."  
  
Gertie strummed the guitar, her fingers rhythmically brushing the strings. Her bright eyes hid an elderly   
weariness and her energetic exterior covered a certain interior.  
  
Phil rolled his eyes, but grinned a little. "I don't know if Short Man is going to appreciate your musical   
talents."  
  
"Course Tex will. He needs some cheering up." Gertie wrinkled her nose and narrowed her eyes. "Those   
hospitals, why, they try to destroy you! Poison you with green jello- that's what they do! Shoving those   
blasted pills down your throat, strapping you to the bed! Why, we should be coming up with a plan to bust   
ol' Tex outta there!" The woman nodded triumphantly.  
  
Phil parked the green Packard. "Now, Pookie, you can't go trying to bust out Short Man. He has to stay at   
the hospital a little longer." The elderly man stepped out of the car, hooking his fingers around his   
suspenders. "Okay, Pookie?" He glanced around. "Pookie?" Off to the distance he could hear a devilish   
laughter. Phil grumbled before darting inside the building.  
  
Inside the hospital room, most of the two children's schoolmates had gathered, eagerly waiting to hear their   
adventurous tale.   
  
"What happened in there?" asked Sid, his voice slightly squeaky.  
  
"Yeah, us fellers been ponderin' how you two done escaped that there fire," added Stinky, scratching his   
head a little. The other children nodded encouragingly except for Gerald, who stood in the corner, hating   
the isolation he felt, and the distance that had grown between himself and his best friend.  
  
The two exchanged a glance. Helga shrugged, feeling weary and still hurting despite the multiple doses of   
pain killers that had been given to her. Arnold sighed, acknowledging that he would begin. He opened his   
mouth, but before he could even utter a single syllable there was a knock at the door.  
  
"Um, come in." The wooden door opened slowly and a head peaked in. All the children immediately   
recognized the oval face, short dark brown hair, and soft round eyes. The woman, who was wearing a   
forest green business suit, stepped in.  
  
"Dr. Bliss?" The woman smiled at the children, looking perplexed, and Helga, looking nervous.  
  
"I just wanted to drop by and see how you two are doing." Her smile was warm and understanding. She   
stepped closer to the beds and the other 4th graders moved out of her way quickly.  
  
"I'm doing okay," replied Arnold. He turned to rest his green eyes on the girl in her bed.  
  
"What about you, Helga? How are you feeling?"  
  
The girl glanced down at her hands, wrapped in white bandages. She knew she was a sight to see and she   
felt the scars suddenly sting, reminding her of where they were and where they might always be.  
  
"Okay," she muttered angrily. Suddenly the door flung open and an old woman entered, followed by a few   
frantic hospital assistants and an elderly man. Also, not too far behind, a man with a black toupee entered,   
and a young man with overly cheerful eyes.  
  
"Grandma?" The woman in question's eyes tightened under the cowboy hat resting on top of her head. In   
her hands she held a guitar.  
  
"Pookie, how many times have I-" Gertie turned around to glare at Phil.  
  
"That's Annie Oakley, to you, Slim!" she exclaimed proudly. Then she took the guitar and while the   
children and the others watched with growing interest, she began to pluck the strings.   
  
"This old town should've burned down in 1944  
When the last men went to war  
They came back different  
If they came back at all  
This old town should've burned down in 1956  
That's when the twister hit  
And all our hopes were buried  
Beneath the boards and the bricks  
And we almost called it quits!"  
  
The children gathered around her, delighted by this new source of entertainment. Gertie, feeling   
encouraged, continued to sing and the melody of the country song hung in the air.  
  
"Some where in the distance,  
The city lights do shine!"  
  
Dr. Bliss turned towards Helga who watched the scene, her face expressionless. "Helga?" The blonde girl   
turned her head sharply. The doctor reached out her hand and touched Helga's gently. "I know that you   
two have scars now- both inside and out. They'll heal if you let them."   
  
"The sidewalks gleam with neon dreams,  
That call from time to time."  
  
The 9-year-old blinked. The woman patted the girl's arm and nodded. "It'll be all right again." Without   
another word, she slipped out of the hospital room, unnoticed as almost everyone's attention was focused   
on Gertie.  
  
"When my children's children  
Ask me why I didn't go-"  
  
Helga looked down at her hand and her eyes widened in disbelief at the small object Dr. Bliss had slipped   
her when she had touched her hand. The brass edge still shone, and the golden face gazed back at her with   
its sweet eyes.   
  
"They say the heart of any town  
Is the people that you've known  
They'll always call you home."  
  
She gripped the locket tightly and then looked over every detail, wondering how it could remain unscathed.   
She had seen it fall into the fiery pit with her own eyes…how could it have survived? There was no   
rational explanation… She unclasped the locket and, making sure no one was paying attention, read the   
inscription softly to herself. Yep, it was definitely hers. Somehow, through all the perils of the fire, it had   
made it.  
  
A small smile forming on her lips, she allowed her fingers to trace the heart-shaped locket until she felt   
eyes upon her. She looked up and saw Arnold watching her. She scowled, but then paused to study him   
and his scars more closely. Their scars…weren't they just everlasting souvenirs? He smiled at her and   
winked. Not because he was teasing her, but rather because of a secret the two would always share.   
  
The school had been destroyed, but it was more than the fall of a structure that had happened. Oh, it was so   
much more than that! But it was impossible to explain the unexplainable and to show the others how to   
believe the unbelievable. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust… But they knew what would rise out of the rubble,   
the ashes, and the dust.   
  
The two small children turned their heads, looking past the spectacle of Gertie strumming on the guitar and   
Phil dancing alongside the 4th graders; they studied the window and what lay outside. They looked on at   
the world knowingly and listened to Gertie's voice and the country tune play in the background as she   
reached the final lines of the song.  
  
"This old town was built by hand  
In the dust bowl of the Mother land  
There must be rock beneath this sand  
Oh, I'll be damned  
This town still stands!"  
  
  
  
  
Fini!!! C'est la fin!! Really it is. Ah…it's such a relief to finally complete this.  
  
Now I get to explain why I took so long- originally they died. Yep, writers can be very cruel, but after a   
while I decided that wouldn't be all too great of an ending and neither would be a confession, so I created   
my own twisted conclusion.  
  
Anyways- thanks for reading and a special thanks to all those who took the time to review. I don't think   
I'll be working on any other stories for the time being…well except for one *evil grin* which I have been   
neglecting for the past few weeks. (Sorry! Sudden inspiration hit and well…you know…I'll get back on it   
ASAP).  
  
So if you enjoyed or even despised this ending, let me know…I'd hate to be an ignorant writer. Thanks   
again and I leave everyone with this final thought: it's not what happens to you, it's how you deal with it.  
  
~Kimba   
  
  



End file.
